


'Twixt Moonlight and Morning

by Sunshinebunnie



Series: The Accidental Exhibitionists [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Accidental Exhibitionism, Alternate Universe, Ass Play, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Light Dominance, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, mentions of alcohol use, mentions of smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinebunnie/pseuds/Sunshinebunnie
Summary: Months after their wild sexy tryst in the library, Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones can't stop thinking about their one-night stand. When Betty's former college roommate, Veronica, invites her to Riverdale for the opening of her new club, the Halloween costume party seems like the perfect way for her to forget about the man who's been haunting her fantasies for months. Little does Jughead know that the costume party Sweet Pea coerces him into attending as his wing man will bring the Hitchcock blonde he can't stop thinking about back into his life.A continuation of Motorin'--however, this is a standalone work and you don't need to have read Motorin' first to enjoy this! 😊😊😊
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Fangs Fogarty/Jellybean Jones, Veronica Lodge/Sweet Pea
Series: The Accidental Exhibitionists [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555162
Comments: 23
Kudos: 177
Collections: 6th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Tricks and Treats of Riverdale





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> First--I'd like to send a HUGE thank you to the mega wonderful @RosieXXVI, who so kindly volunteered to beta this for me! You all have her to thank for helping me break this up into more readable chunks. 🥰🥰🥰
> 
> Second--as always, thank you for taking the time to read my story!! I know how valuable your time is, and I hope I've created something you enjoy. 😊😊😊
> 
> Third--this was *supposed* to be part of the Riverdaleevents Tricks or Treats event, but yeah.....LOL.
> 
> Last--if you like what you read and you does the Tumblr, feel free to come talk to me @sunshinebunnie. I promise I'm nice!! 😁😁😁

_Can I be your friend, Betty?_

**BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**

Betty groaned as she blearily searched for her phone on her nightstand, desperate to turn the obnoxious alarm off. She felt like she’d been having the same stupid dream every night for months—she was back in school, pressed up against an oh-so-unforgiving bookcase in the library, a deadly sexy man on the verge of ravishing her, making a complete mockery of anything remotely approaching “friendship.” Half the time, she found herself waking up with her fingers buried knuckle deep in her throbbing pussy. The other half of the time though...well, she couldn’t say that Veronica was _wrong_ about her need to get laid. Unfortunately, between returning to her hometown and moving back in with her parents, Betty’s opportunities for dating, let alone anything more _risqué_ , had been underwhelming, to say the least. Even if Veronica wasn’t her best friend, she was pretty sure she still would’ve jumped at the opportunity to meet up for a girls’ weekend.

If anyone other than Alice Cooper had been her boss, Betty was certain she could’ve swung a proper four day weekend out of Halloween between things like sick days and actual time off. As it was though, Alice had been using their familial relationship to skirt around pesky things like “labor laws” ever since Betty had graduated and come to work at _The Register_. Betty looked wistfully at her overnight bag stashed neatly by the door to her room. For a brief second, she wondered if her mother would actually fire her if she just got in her car and drove to Riverdale to meet up with Veronica right after breakfast. A small sigh escaped through her nose. Alice probably wouldn’t fire her, but Betty knew she’d make damn sure to make both her work and home lives as miserable as possible. As much as she loved V, there were still some limits to the lengths she would go for their friendship. 

Luckily, Fridays were always layout day for _The Register_ ’s weekend edition; she would have more than enough to occupy her mind until she was able to get on the road after five. 

*

Sweet Pea balled up the useless invoice in his hand and forcibly chucked it into the trash can next to his desk with a muttered curse. It was the seventh one his normally fanatically meticulous business partner had screwed up in as many weeks. If Jughead kept it up, Sweet Pea was going to start checking his desk for flasks or performing sobriety spot checks at the office. The last thing either of them needed was for Jughead to begin living up to his father’s legacy. 

He was so caught up in his internal monologue about his best friend’s recent incompetence that he almost didn’t hear an unknown smokey female voice say, “I hope you don’t normally use that kind of language around women.” 

His head whipped up only to find a dryly amused brunette in a perfectly tailored deep purple cap-sleeve dress staring at him from the doorway to his and Jughead’s shared office. Sweet Pea knew he was staring—borderline ogling, if he was being completely honest—but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Women who looked like her did not make a habit of stepping foot in their garage, normally remaining primly seated in the front passenger seat of whatever overvalued, underpowered, ego-stoking sportscar their husbands or boyfriends were bringing in to be serviced. The mildly amused smirk started to morph into an unimpressed eyebrow raise the longer he kept silently watching her. Just as the silence was about to take a detour into “uncomfortably awkward” territory, he gave her a not-at-all chastened shrug before adding, “Most of the women I know like it when I talk dirty.” 

The mystery woman crossed her arms tighter and he fought not to openly grin when he noticed the faintest hint of pink tinge the naturally tanned apples of her cheeks. Sweet Pea uncoiled himself from behind his desk, this time not bothering to hide his smile as the petite woman openly admired all six feet three-and-a-half inches of him. Grabbing a spare clipboard, he circled around his desk and closed the short distance between them in four quick strides. Once he stopped in front of her, he grabbed the pen tucked behind his right ear and tapped it against the intake paperwork as he said, “So, what kind of noises does she make?”

The affronted horror on the woman’s face was matched only by the disgust in her voice when she replied, “ _Excuse me_?”

Sweet Pea’s good mood started to slip as a frown creased his forehead. The woman certainly didn’t look like any cop or process server he’d ever seen before and her dress looked way too expensive to be some tear away stripper costume. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” he eventually said in confusion, “Car trouble?”

He’d never seen a woman’s foul mood disappear so quickly. 

Flicking her hair back, the woman gave him a blinding smile as she uncrossed her arms and extended her hand. “Veronica Lodge,” she said brightly. 

Sweet Pea slid the pen behind the metal clip at the top of the board before taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. “Sweet Pea,” he replied a little cautiously. When she kept looking at him like there was supposed to be more to his name, he added, “ _Just_ Sweet Pea.”

“How Brazilian of you,” she said in a suddenly throaty voice that immediately put his mind in the gutter. His hand was so large and warm, Veronica didn’t want to pull away from him, but she did anyway before the moment began to get awkward. Clearing her throat, she said, “I own the new club in town. La Bonne Nuit? I’m going around to introduce myself to the other local business owners. I’m hosting a fancy dress party at the club for Halloween tomorrow. You should come.” 

He’d all but forgotten that Halloween was that weekend. Having to keep an extra vigilant eye on Jughead and his newly acquired aversion to properly billing people had left him little time of his own recently to socialize. The idea of going to a costume party seemed childish to him, but he knew the Wyrm wouldn’t be doing anything special and the Serpents’ bonfire wouldn’t truly get going until way after midnight. 

“Can I bring someone?” he asked.

The confident smile she’d put on as she’d waited for his response faltered the tiniest bit at the edges of her mouth. She should’ve known he had a girlfriend—just because Archie was off “finding himself” in the Forest Service and Reggie was busy “learning to love me for me” didn’t mean that _all_ men she found devastatingly attractive were single. 

“Of course!” she said with a Cooper-esque level of pep. “I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend.”

Out of nowhere, Sweet Pea began choking. Veronica quickly closed the small distance between them, fully prepared to start thumping him on the back. The clipboard in his hands clattered to the floor as he hunched over his knees to catch his breath, waving off Veronica’s concerned fussing. When he eventually stopped coughing, he gingerly stood up and gave her an odd look before saying, “My business partner. I was going to bring my business partner. He’s a righteous pain in my ass, but his sister and her boyfriend are coming home for the weekend. Thought it might be good to get him away from the happy couple for a while.”

The relief that flooded through Veronica was immediate. A more genuine megawatt smile broke out across her face as she replied, “The more the merrier! His sister and her boyfriend are more than welcome to come too.” 

Sweet Pea simply gave her a brief nod in acknowledgment of her expanded invitation. From their proximity, he could easily smell the sweet notes of vanilla in her shampoo along with something else, something that reminded him of the fancy coffees that Toni started drinking after she got together with Cheryl Blossom. He was so distracted by the subtle feminine scents coming from the petite brunette in front of him that were so out of place in the garage that he nearly missed it when she said, “I’m sorry if I offended you before. I just naturally assumed someone who looks the way you do would be off the market.”

Even though his rational self knew there was no insult behind her words, he still felt his hackles rise as she said “someone who looks the way you do.” Keeping his eyes trained firmly on the doorframe behind and to the right of her, he asked darkly, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Rather than the scared, high pitched stammering he was expecting, he caught Veronica looking up at him with hooded eyes as she answered, “You look like you’re about to shoot a Sons of Anarchy-themed Abercrombie ad.” 

Suddenly all of the blood in his body immediately began flowing toward his cock as he struggled to remind himself why he couldn’t just fuck this hot stranger in the middle of the office. Before he lost complete control of himself and decided to try his luck, he sensed Veronica slowly but steadily backing away from him toward the front of the garage. His brain had barely clicked back into place as she reached the doorway and paused to give him a smaller, but equally genuine smile. “Still a bunch of businesses to stop at,” she said almost ruefully, “but I’ll see you tomorrow?” Sweet Pea hazily felt himself give her another brief nod, and before he knew it, she was gone. 

*

By the time Alice _finally_ approved Betty’s layout for _The Register_ ’s weekend edition, it was already pushing 7:30 and she silently cursed her mother’s not-at-all-subtle manipulation as she locked up her desk for the weekend. Ever since Veronica and Betty had been randomly assigned as roommates their freshman year, Alice Cooper had disapproved of their friendship. As Betty put the address into the Google Maps app on her phone, she was pleasantly surprised to see that the drive wasn’t going to be nearly as long as she’d feared—Riverdale only being about seventy-five minutes away from Greendale. 

As she climbed into her car, she took one final inventory to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything back at her parents’ house before she set off on the road. Assured that everything she needed was where it was supposed to be, she quickly opened her text messages and tapped out, ‘On the road now. See you in about an hour and a half!’ A sudden shower of confetti erupted across the screen of her phone causing Betty to give the device an indulgent smile despite knowing Veronica couldn’t see her. 

She turned the key in the ignition and her Chevy Nova rumbled to life with a roar. Even though she was parked on Main Street, Betty let her car idle for a minute, taking a second to imagine the pinched look on her mother’s face from the noise while her father likely huddled in his office out back snickering. Her eyes swept over the passenger side of the car one last time before she threw the car into drive and headed off down the road—the quiet streets of downtown Greendale soon giving way to the unlit highways of upstate New York and the ever-present worry during the Fall evenings of a deer or two suddenly bounding out across the road. 

The quieter stretches of the highway like that between Greendale and Riverdale tended not to be as frequently patrolled by the State Police and Betty found herself gleefully surrendering to her urge to open up the Nova’s engine. A loud rumble reverberated throughout the car’s solid metal frame as the cat-back she installed on her exhaust amplified the roar of the Nova’s engine as she stepped harder on the gas. Betty’s fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel as she watched the speedometer creep higher and higher. The faster the Nova went, the more she felt the car’s vibrations traveling through the driver’s seat directly to her pussy, which caused her to grip the steering wheel even harder, albeit for an entirely different reason. She forced herself to keep her attention on the road even though every passing mile was only serving to get her more and more turned on, allowing an all-too-familiar frustration to take root within her. 

Between the thrill of getting to drive her car like it was meant to be driven and the pulsating distraction she’d been desperately trying to forget about for months, Betty wasn’t entirely surprised to see she’d managed to make a seventy-five-minute trip is fifty-seven minutes. 

While she’d barely been able to make out the nostalgia-inducing “Welcome to Riverdale” sign in the late October darkness, she’d had no problems seeing the illuminated neon glow of Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe. Her stomach started rumbling as the old school dining car diner got closer and closer and she vaguely remembered having an open-faced turkey and avocado sandwich on whole wheat toast for lunch close to eight hours earlier. Given that it was already nearly 8:30 at night, Betty felt it was safe to assume that Veronica probably hadn’t waited on her to eat dinner. Another grumbly noise bubbled its way out of her stomach. Betty started to slow the car as she got closer to the entrance of the diner’s parking lot before finally flicking on her turn signal and pulling into the nearly empty lot. 

*

As much as JB loved her brother, the biggest reason she’d agreed to come home for the weekend was that she’d been craving Pop Tate’s chili fries... and because after being together for nearly a year, Fangs had started getting a little salty about the fact she’d kept squirming her way out of introducing him to any of her family or friends from home. JB had never told her brother about catching him in the library the day he’d come to drop off her textbook, but she knew the fact he’d finally gotten laid for the first time in forever had gone _a long_ way toward explaining how well he’d taken her whole change-of-major talk. Even still, she’d known better than to push the boundaries of his tolerance by springing her boyfriend on him during the same visit. Unfortunately, finding the “right” moment afterwards to tell him about her relationship with Fangs had continued to slip further and further away until he’d begun withholding sex from her to “encourage” her to get on it. Jellybean had lasted all of about nine days before she’d called Jug to tell him she wanted to bring Fangs home for the weekend to meet him and Sweet Pea. 

Jughead had surprised her with the amount of restraint he’d managed to show during the entire truck ride back to Riverdale, managing to make it through the whole two hour drive without giving Fangs some overbearing “what are your intentions toward my sister” speech, although she’d known it was bound to happen sooner or later. It turned out that “sooner” happened to be after they’d stopped at Pop’s so JB could satisfy her chili fry craving. 

The diner had been mostly empty when they’d gotten there around 7:45, and they’d been able to settle into the back corner booth Jughead had been occupying religiously since they were both still kids. Fangs had simply stared at Jughead in mystified awe as her brother had practically inhaled two double-decker cheeseburgers, an order of onion rings, and two full pots of coffee and had _still_ looked like he would’ve stolen half of JB’s chili fries if not for the fact that the penalty for doing so would’ve been an excruciatingly slow, painful death. JB had simply shaken her head to herself and slowly savored her fries—if Fangs was so overcome with starstruck hero worship for her brother, she could only imagine how well he was going to get on with Sweet Pea. 

Pop Tate had just walked away after clearing their table and promising to bring JB a slice of banana cream pie when Jughead had “suggested” to Fangs that the two of them should step outside for a cigarette. Fangs had eagerly gotten up from the table—a surprise to her since she knew he didn’t smoke—and JB had shot her brother a meaningful glare as he’d quickly hustled her boyfriend outside for what was clearly going to be “The Talk.” 

She’d been nearly three-quarters of the way done with her pie when she heard the familiar tinkling of the bell over the front door. JB gaped for a minute before quickly closing her mouth. Instead of the two men she’d expected to see walking back through the door, she caught sight of an equally recognizable blonde ponytail belonging to a woman she hadn’t seen since the day Jughead decided to get freaky in the library. Her eyes cut back over to the large bank of windows at the front of the diner—Jughead and Fangs were nowhere to be found. ‘Of all the gin joints,’ JB found herself thinking, ‘what’re the odds _she_ walks into this one with Jug just outside?’ 

She watched as the blonde sat down at the counter with what would’ve been a surprising amount of primness, were it not for the fact that JB had seen the nameless blonde exhibit the same ramrod straight posture _nearly_ everywhere she’d ever seen her. JB stretched out the last few bites of her pie desperately hoping that if she took long enough, Jughead would eventually get tired of intimidating Fangs and would come back into the diner looking for her. Sweet Pea had sent her several text messages expressing his agitation at Jug since the Fall semester had started. Given the unusually amenable mood he’d been in for weeks after they’d fucked, Jellybean was willing to bet her last dollar that he wouldn’t say no to a “Round Two” if given the chance.

The blonde was still waiting on her food when JB saw her suddenly check her phone. A moment later, her entire demeanor changed. Her ponytail started swinging with an unnatural perkiness as she politely, but energetically tried to get Pop Tate’s attention. From the opposite side of the diner, JB couldn’t make out precisely what she said, but she recognized the way Pop happily lit up as she spoke—he knew the person she was texting. In a flash, JB’s hopes of a “meet-cute” between her brother and his library fling evaporated. The librarian hadn’t happened upon Pop’s by accident—she was in Riverdale specifically to see someone—probably a boyfriend if her excitement was any indication. Although the thought disappointed her, JB had to admit it was understandable—it had been several months after all, and even librarians had needs apparently. 

She made her way quickly to the front of the diner, pulling some cash out of her pocket as she went. Only her brother could figure out how to intimidate her boyfriend _and_ stick her with the check at the same time. Pop set two plates of food down in front of the blonde before turning a warm smile her way. “Always great to see you, JB,” he said fondly as he rang up her bill.

“I’ve been dreaming of your chili fries since I got back to school,” she answered sincerely, handing over a crumpled-up $20 and a slightly less wrinkled $10. 

As Pop got her change, JB studied the blonde. Up close, she knew _exactly_ what Jughead had found so attractive—she looked like one of his idolized Hitchcock blondes brought to life in the modern world. That combined with them probably bonding over some obscure book—Jug was weird like that—was probably what got him so hot and bothered over her. Just then a thought struck her. Sometime over the weekend, she’d pull Sweet Pea aside and they’d set up a profile for Jug on some online dating site like kinkylibrarians.com. He could get under someone else, and they could get some relief from his broody nonsense. 

JB pocketed the thirty-seven cents Pop handed over while simultaneously dropping the five-dollar bill he gave her into the tip jar next to the register. Pop gave her a thoughtful smile as JB waved back and headed out to the parking lot to find Jughead and Fangs. 

*

  
Betty had only been alone in the diner for a few minutes when Veronica swanned in with an excited, “Betty!” as soon as she laid eyes on her best friend. She quickly slid off her stool and ran to hug the brunette, squealing, “V!” as she wrapped her arms around the other woman. They kept hugging for several minutes, their mutual happiness at seeing each other overwhelming. After living together for four years, the five months of separation they’d endured since graduation had been more difficult than either of them had anticipated. 

Veronica and Betty returned to the counter and the two hamburgers that were waiting for them. As she sank her teeth into the perfectly juicy meat, Veronica let out a practically obscene moan of satisfaction, which caused Betty’s eyebrows to shoot comically toward her hairline as she tried unsuccessfully not to laugh at her best friend’s outrageousness. The brunette gave her an unapologetic grin as she simply closed her eyes and moaned around another bite of burger. 

Betty had managed to work halfway through her own hamburger when Veronica eventually said, “B, you should’ve _seen_ this tall drink of water that I invited to my club’s opening tomorrow night! He’s probably got six inches on Archie and ‘fuck me’ eyes like Reggie, but more soulful.” She hummed a little wistfully as her mind drifted toward the surprisingly magnetic mechanic while Betty just hummed a small noncommittal noise around her mouthful of strawberry milkshake. If she was being honest, Betty sometimes envied how easily Veronica seemed to drift back and forth between men. A less charitable person might’ve accused V of being a serial monogamist—too afraid of being on her own to stay single for long—but Betty knew better. Her best friend knew _exactly_ who she was and what she wanted from life, and that infectious confidence drew men to her like moths to a flame. 

“Speaking of tomorrow night,” Betty eventually chimed in, “you still haven’t exactly told me what the plan is, V.”

Veronica spun around on her stool until she was squarely facing her best friend—her romantic dreaminess instantly swept away as she pivoted back to party-planner-hostess mode. “Well, the club officially opens at 9, but I’d like to get there around 8 to do a final once-over before we open the doors to the public. We can change into our costumes in my office.” 

Hearing Veronica mention “costumes” caused Betty to splutter. When V had originally invited her to Riverdale for La Bonne Nuit’s opening, she’d never mentioned it being a costume party, and despite Betty’s fanatical attention to detail, she hadn’t thought to pack a costume “just in case.” Before she had a chance to open her mouth to unleash a profuse stream of apologies, Veronica stopped her with a smile and a held up hand. “I know what you’re about to say, B, and don’t worry about it! I have our costumes covered. Did you at least bring your Keds?”

Betty gave her a mildly confused look as she nodded her head while Veronica beamed. “Perfect!” the brunette said with a clap of her hands. 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the one-shot. (For those who want to skip around later, it's opening night at La Bonne Nuit. 😊)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First--I'd like to send a HUGE thank you to the mega wonderful @RosieXXVI, who so kindly volunteered to beta this for me! You all have her to thank for helping me break this up into more readable chunks. 🥰🥰🥰
> 
> Second--as always, thank you for taking the time to read my story!! I know how valuable your time is, and I hope I've created something you enjoy. 😊😊😊
> 
> Third--this was *supposed* to be part of the Riverdaleevents Tricks or Treats event, but yeah.....LOL.
> 
> Last--if you like what you read and you does the Tumblr, feel free to come talk to me @sunshinebunnie. I promise I'm nice!! 😁😁😁

**BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**

The unforgiving beeping of her phone alarm had gone off for the second time in what felt like as many minutes. As her hand searched blindly for the torture device, Betty silently cursed her drunken lack of foresight for forgetting to turn off the 6 a.m. alarm that was automatically set to wake her up for her Saturday morning run. There was an abrasive quality to the electronic sound that Betty found herself occasionally internally anthropomorphizing into her mother’s voice. Her hand swept widely to the side only for her still slightly-alcohol soaked brain to realize too late that her hand made contact with the phone as the force of her sweeping jettisoned the device off the mattress and a quarter of the way across the room. 

Betty groaned. Although the thick pile of the plush carpet successfully muted the alarm a little bit, it hadn’t quieted it down enough to where she could peacefully return to sleep. Reluctantly, she cracked one eye open as she slunk out of bed and practically crawled across the floor to where her evil phone had landed. Picking up the device, she jabbed forcefully at the “Stop” button on the alarm several times before the tinny screeching blessedly ended. Once the unforgiving sound of the alarm was silenced, Betty slowly made her way back over to the bed on her hands and knees, still more than a little asleep. 

The joy of seeing her best friend the night before had extended well into the wee hours of the morning as Veronica kept cracking open bottles of wine while she bemoaned the lack of a man in her life, but gushed about how happy she was that her father had entrusted her with her own business venture. For her part, Betty had largely smiled and nodded at the appropriate times, finally opening up about her own frustrations with living back at home and the family drama that inevitably seemed to define her relationship with her mom somewhere into their third bottle of wine. At the time, the drinking and late-night girl talk had transported Betty back to a time not so long ago when things seemed endlessly possible and she was willing to do outrageously spontaneous things like having public sex with a stranger while she was at work. In the harsh light of dawn, however, her and Veronica’s late-night wine binge seemed to be the height of “poor life choices.” Shoving her phone securely under her pillow, Betty found herself saying a silent prayer to anyone who was listening to take pity on her, and to keep her inevitable hangover manageable. The last thing she wanted was to have her girls’ weekend with Veronica and—more importantly for V—the opening of La Bonne Nuit ruined because the two of them had gotten White Girl Wasted on their very first night back together, and needed to spend the rest of the weekend recovering. 

When Betty woke up again, she was pleasantly surprised to find that her head was miraculously free of the post-drinking migraine she’d been dreading, and her stomach, while not dying from hunger, at least wasn’t too queasy either. Digging her phone out from underneath the pillows again, she was more than a little mortified to see it was already after 1:30 in the afternoon. Even though she logically knew there was no reason she _needed_ to be up spectacularly early, the voice in the back of her mind that always sounded suspiciously like her mom was beginning to whisper its twisted sweet nothings in her ear of “how a _good_ friend would’ve gotten up earlier so she could spend more time with her _best_ friend,” and how their “alcohol-fueled binge was going to make La Bonne Nuit’s opening night a disaster.” Betty pinched the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes and slowly counted backward from twenty. 

Slipping out of bed again, she padded over to the door of the guest room and peeked her head out. Much to her surprise, not only did Veronica appear to be awake, but she appeared to be in the middle of holding a meeting with several people Betty didn’t recognize. She gave V a small wave of acknowledgment to which she nodded back with a smile as Betty quietly walked down the short hallway of the suite to where the main bathroom was located. Although she was eager to grab a shower, doing so when there were so many strangers around made her uncomfortable, so she resigned herself to grabbing one later—cautiously hoping that the parade of people through Veronica’s block of rooms was not going to be an all-day thing. 

By the time Betty emerged from the bathroom, it appeared that the bulk of the parade of people surrounding Veronica had dissipated, so she took the opportunity to creep over to the brunch spread laid out across the mid-sized dining room table. She grabbed one of the fancy disposable plastic plates that had been put out near the food and worked her way around the table grabbing a croissant, a few cracker-sized slices of cheddar cheese, and some fruit before pouring herself a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice from a carafe set on ice in a champagne bucket. Betty quietly munched on her fruit as she made her way over toward a vacant spot by the group of couches where Veronica was holding court. She’d barely settled in when V shooed off the last of her apparent underlings with a no-nonsense reminder that “Durex is co-sponsoring this Halloween shindig, _so figure out_ how to get their products in people’s hands without tacky high school Sex Ed booths being set up everywhere!” 

Veronica turned to her with a brimming smile, which Betty gratefully reciprocated—her “best friend guilt” getting assuaged by the lack of negativity flowing off her friend. “I’m glad you don’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from last night,” Veronica said with a small cheeky wink.

Betty gave her a good-natured eye roll as she nibbled on her pastry. “There was a close call around 6, but it seems like I made it through relatively _unscathed_ ,” she added wryly. 

V just laughed. “I’ve been up since 8,” she said waving off the beginnings of Betty’s horrified apology. “Seriously, I’m pretty sure I woke up drunk, but I drank a gallon of water and did back-to-back classes of hot yoga and kickboxing, and I just about sobered up immediately. Ten out of ten _would not_ recommend,” she added as an afterthought.

Betty continued to gape at her. “Oh my gosh, V! Why... you should’ve… I would’ve gotten up,” she said, her sense of guilt overriding Veronica’s benediction.

“Really, B, it’s fine! I had a bunch of last-minute stuff to finalize for tonight, and you’re my guest. I was happy to let you catch up on your rest... especially since you might need the extra stamina for tonight,” she added with a suggestive wiggle of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

She dropped her head into her hands with a groan as an embarrassed flush heated up her pale cheeks. “It’s way too much to expect that I didn’t…” she said, her voice drifting off as Veronica finished.

“...Wax poetic about how you need some Vitamin D to get over the sexy, sexy dreams you’ve been having about your library hook-up?” Veronica said with a grin. “Yes. Yes, it would be.”

Betty’s head dropped even lower as she silently prayed to anyone who might listen to just smite her where she sat. She wasn’t sure which she felt more mortified about: the fact that she’d actually admitted out loud that she’d been having erotic dreams about her one-night stand, or that she’d told Veronica about her library sexcapade in the first place. If she being completely honest, what really embarrassed Betty was that she felt she needed to get so drunk to talk about her (lack of) sex life with her best friend. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk about sex, it just usually involved Veronica telling Betty about her exploits rather than the other way around. (Betty had to admit, she would never forget the look of unmitigated _shock_ on V’s face when she’d first told her about her library hook-up.)

Veronica scooted closer to Betty on the couch until she was close enough to rest her head against her best friend’s shoulder. Betty looped their arms together as Veronica let out a small sigh. This simple camaraderie was the biggest thing both women missed after so many years of living together. “I have a good feeling about tonight, B,” Veronica said wistfully. “We are going to look _way_ too hot to go home alone.” 

“Speaking of which,” Betty said as Veronica basked in her vision of them in their costumes, “you still haven’t told me what we’re going as.”

There was a brief delay while Veronica continued to enjoy her daydream when suddenly her head popped off Betty’s shoulder like a prairie dog sensing danger. Shifting around to face Betty, she clasped her hands with an excited squeal as she said, “We’re going to be cheerleaders!”

Betty sat dumbly for a minute as Veronica grinned at her. Although the whole “sexy cheerleader” vibe was well within Veronica’s oeuvre, Betty wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable essentially wearing a sports bra and hot pants all night. Before she had a chance to express her reservations though, Veronica added, “And the _pièce de résistance_ , B, is that they’re my mom’s old Riverdale High River Vixen uniforms! _That’s_ how I know we’ll be swimming in choice tonight. We will be the _embodiment_ of these Riverdale men’s high school fantasies!” 

Suddenly, Veronica’s nervousness over La Bonne Nuit’s debut made so much more sense. It wasn’t just about impressing her dad and proving she had what it took to be an entrepreneur, it was also about not embarrassing herself in front of people who had a history with her mom and who’d be all too happy to see her fail simply because she was Hermione Gomez’s daughter. Although Betty still didn’t share Veronica’s confidence that tonight was going to solve her continued fixation on her library hook-up, she was determined to go along with Veronica’s plan nonetheless if for no other reason than she wanted to see her succeed at her new business. Plastering on one of her best Betty Cooper smiles, she grabbed Veronica’s hand in excitement and said, “I always wanted to be a cheerleader, V!” As Veronica beamed back at her, she could see a little bit of the nervous tension in her shoulders begin to bleed away, and she knew in her heart that she was doing the right thing. 

*

Jughead wasn’t sure who he hated more—his sister or his best friend—although at the moment he was leaning more toward Sweet Pea. He’d been looking forward to spending time with JB and her boyfriend, Fangs (who he, surprisingly, didn’t hate on sight), maybe going to Pop’s or grabbing a movie at the Twilight-In before joining the rest of the Serpents later that night for the Halloween bonfire. Unfortunately, that was _before_ he’d accidentally overheard Sweet Pea putting a bug in Fangs’ ear about some secluded bunker in the woods where he and JB could sneak off for some alone time. By the time he’d finished telling Pea off for endorsing JB’s sex life, his truck was missing and JB was ignoring all of his attempts to get ahold of her. 

He’d stormed back into the office and petulantly lit a cigarette as he glowered behind his desk, knowing every drag he took only pissed Sweet Pea off more. By the time he’d ashed half of his cigarette, his nerves felt a little better even if he was still irritated about the love shack advice. Sweet Pea hadn’t looked up once the entire time Jughead had been sulking, so it caught him off-guard when he heard him say, “I don’t know what your problem is, Jones. I did you a favor.”

His cigarette dropped from his fingers, the smoldering embers of the burning paper barely missing a stack of invoices on his desk. He quickly picked up the half-smoked butt and absently brushed the fine grey ash left behind on to the floor, much to Sweet Pea’s perpetual annoyance. “How do you figure that, Sweet Pea?” he said with an indignant huff as he glared a hole into the side of his best friend’s bowed head. 

Sweet Pea looked up slowly from the ledger he was reconciling and gave Jughead a long-suffering look. When Jughead’s scowl remained firmly in place, he sighed before sitting back from his desk, his ancient desk chair squealing piteously from its desperate need for some WD-40. “I know you live under a rock when it comes to JB, but she and Fangs spent _all_ afternoon looking like they wanted to rip each other’s clothes off. This way, they get a chance to get it out of their systems before tonight, and _you’re_ less likely to see something that’s going to make you want to kill Fangs at the bonfire,” Sweet Pea said reasonably. Just as Jughead started opening his mouth to tell off his best friend, Sweet Pea crossed his arms and shot him a borderline glare of his own before adding, “Besides, _you owe me, Jones_.” 

There was a dark undercurrent of _challenge_ in Sweet Pea’s voice that set Jughead’s teeth on edge. Angrily crushing out the last of his cigarette against the sole of his boot, he gritted out, “ _Oh really? How’s that?_ ”

For a long minute, Sweet Pea didn’t say a word, merely letting the dull _tap-tap-tap_ of his pencil eraser against the ledger’s open pages hang between them. When Jughead’s eyes eventually dropped to the pencil, to tell him to knock off the monotonous drumming, Sweet Pea finally stopped. Having successfully drawn his attention to the ledger, Pea said almost smugly, “The books, Jones. While you’ve had your head up your ass for the last couple of months, I’ve been making sure we aren’t losing business or losing money with your jacked up invoices.” 

For a second, Jughead looked like he’d accidentally bitten into a lemon as his confusion fought for dominance with his anger. “My invoices are fine!” he yelled back, although Sweet Pea didn’t miss the way his voice jumped half an octave at the end as he tried to keep it from turning into a question. 

Sweet Pea laughed. “Look, Jug, all I need is a wingman,” he said, knowing he’d gotten in Jughead’s head by calling him out over business issues. Jughead’s lemon-sucking look deepened as his brows knitted together. “The sexiest chick came into the shop yesterday, saying she’s new in town and hosting some Halloween costume party at her business,” Pea said, his eyes losing focus for a second as he let his mind drift back to the memory of Veronica’s killer legs. 

Confusion settled heavily over Jughead as he tried to process the unexpected shift in their conversation-fight. His mind finally grasped on to what seemed like the bizarrest part of Sweet Pea’s story. “A costume party?” he said skeptically.

Shrugging his shoulders in agreement, Sweet Pea replied, “I know. It seems dumb, but we’ve got a few hours before the bonfire. I’d rather spend them trying to pick up some hot woman than down at the Wyrm looking at Hog Eye’s leathery face.” 

Jughead scrubbed his hands over his face. As much as it killed him to admit it, he knew he’d been distracted for...months (if he was being totally honest), which made him feel like twice as much of an asshole that Sweet Pea had been covering for him the whole time without breathing a word. It embarrassed him to realize he doubted he would’ve exercised the same level of restraint if the situation was reversed. Toying with the edge of his beanie, he mulled over Sweet Pea’s request. ‘At least if I’m watching him get shot down by some girl, I’ll be too distracted to worry about what JB’s doing,’ he thought dryly. 

“If it’s a costume party, what’re we even supposed to dress up as?” Jughead asked a little skeptically.

Sweet Pea looked pointedly at the Serpent jacket Jughead had carefully draped over the back of his chair before checking on some work in the garage before saying, “Bad guys. Duh.” 

Jughead rolled his eyes as an ear-splitting grin broke out over Sweet Pea’s face. 

*

Betty was shocked by how full La Bonne Nuit got in a relatively short period of time. Veronica’s opening appeared to be going flawlessly, and yet…

“V, this is the sixth lap around the dance floor you’ve made in the last thirty minutes,” she said with a questioning smile.

Veronica slowed her drifting even as her eyes continued to scan over the crowd. When she failed to find who or what she was looking for again, she turned her full attention back to Betty, although it didn’t escape Betty’s notice that her eyes were beginning to take on a hint of sadness. “Sorry, B,” she said a little absently, “I thought I would recognize more of the business owners I spoke to this week here.”

Betty wrapped Veronica up in a quick hug. “It’s still early! There’s plenty of time for people to show up,” she said encouragingly.

As Veronica pulled out of the hug, she looked at Betty with a wild grin before shouting over the music, “WE NEED DRINKS!” Without giving Betty a chance to respond, she spun quickly on her pristine white tennis shoes and worked her way skillfully across the dance floor to the crowded mahogany bar on the opposite side of the club. As much as she wanted to hold down their spot on the dance floor, Betty had to admit that her feet were _killing_ her. It had probably been close to a year since the last time she’d spent all night dancing and she felt it. Twisting around, she tried to spy if any of the booths or tables on the outer edges of the floor were free. Under normal circumstances, Betty doubted she would’ve had much trouble; however, with all of the costumes people had shown up in—one particularly elaborate cosplay seemed to involve wings, a deer skull and some truly impressive antlers—being able to adequately see over and around people was proving difficult. 

She decided to take a calculated risk and worked her way over to the far side of the club, carefully trying to navigate the steady influx of people coming down the staircase into La Bonne Nuit. Right as she thought she saw an opening to get passed the stairs, an especially boisterous bachelorette party seemed to appear out of thin air, streaming into the club in a never-ending sea of plastic crowns, hot pink penis wands, and makeshift wings that looked like they’d all loosely woven a bunch of G-strings on some wire hangers. Betty was so focused on not getting trampled by the drunken oversexed pixies that she didn’t notice the exceptionally tall young man in front of her until she found herself colliding with his chest. 

“Oh my God!” Betty sputtered. “Sorry! Sorry. I’m so sorry!” she continued babbling as she tried to scoot around him. 

“You won’t hear me complaining,” a cheeky voice said nearly a foot above her head. 

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she apologized again before turning back to the task of finding an empty booth. As the man went to pass by Betty, she caught a faint flash of green that caught her attention. Despite the ache in her feet, she whipped around and caught hold of the man’s forearm stopping him in his tracks. Before she had a chance to say anything though, she heard Veronica’s voice from the other side of man practically squeal, “Sweet Pea, you made it!” 

Betty’s hand dropped from his jacket as she thought in confusion, ‘ _Sweet Pea_?’ allowing Veronica to begin guiding the man on to the dance floor with the tempting implications of her _swishing_ cheerleading skirt. After recovering from her momentary shock, Betty trailed after Veronica and the tall man she’d clearly been searching for all night, her suspicions growing that he must know _him_ as she got a much better look at the familiar serpent patch on the back of his leather jacket. When she finally managed to push her way through the throng of bodies surrounding them, Veronica turned to Betty with an ecstatic smile that she hadn’t seen on her best friend’s face since before Archie moved across the country for his new position with the U.S. Forest Service. “B,” she yelled over the music, “this is Sweet Pea! He’s one of the local business owners I was telling you about!” 

“Nice to meet you!” Betty yelled back as she awkwardly tried to stick out her hand for him to shake. 

Instead of taking her hand, he gave her another quick once over before his gaze went immediately back to Veronica as he absently shouted, “Yeah.”

Refusing to let him dismiss her before she got answers, she grabbed his arm again more deliberately. His brown eyes flashed for a second with something that could’ve approached malice had Betty been a man, but instead, he brusquely yelled, “ _What_?”

Standing on her tiptoes so she wouldn’t have to shout quite as loudly, Betty asked, “Where did you buy your jacket?”

Sweet Pea’s face momentarily twisted with disdain before he remembered Veronica dancing behind him and he forced himself to bark out a laugh as he replied, “ _Buy_? I _earned_ my Serpent jacket.”

Betty’s eyebrows creased into a deep furrow as she said, “You mean like _a gang_?”

“Yeah, exactly like that,” Sweet Pea with a dark laugh, “Why? You scared I’m going to corrupt your friend?”

Her brain went into overload as she tried to process the suddenly conflicting information she knew about Jughead. Jughead had the same jacket as Sweet Pea, and Sweet Pea was in a gang; therefore, Jughead must be in the same gang. However, Jughead looked for study groups and tidied up scattered library books and read eighteenth-century plays, and gang members didn’t do those things. Besides, good girls like Betty Cooper most certainly _did not_ furiously masturbate to memories of having mind-blowing public sex with gang members or dream about whether they would ever see said gang member again. 

Before she fully realized what she was saying, Betty heard herself blurting out, “Is there a ‘Jughead’ in your gang?”

Any trace of humor, dark or otherwise, immediately bled out of Sweet Pea as he cautiously eyed Betty with new interest. “Why do you care?” he challenged.

Betty fought not to fidget under the intensity of the tall man’s stare. While sharing the details of her sex life with her best friend was one thing, admitting to a gang member that she was trying to track down a one night stand, who also appeared to be a gang member, was a little beyond the pale for her. Instead, she decided to hedge her bets, saying, “I met someone with that name once wearing the same jacket at the library I used to work at.”

The change in Sweet Pea’s demeanor was immediate as the scowl on his face suddenly smoothed out and he straightened up to get a better look at Betty. For a second, Betty felt like he was appraising her the way she looked at vintage muscle cars—inspecting the frames for defects, comparing how the models measured up to the OEM specs... determining whether the cars were up to her standards. After a couple minutes, a thoughtful look passed over his face, and he said, “He’s outside finishing up a cigarette.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a second, comments/reblogs/kudos/bookmarks/etc are all super, super appreciated!
> 
> Thank you again for reading!!!! You're wonderful and amazing!!! 🤗🤗🤗🤗


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the one-shot (For those keeping track for later reference, Betty & Jughead finally reconnect. 😊😊😊)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First--I'd like to send a HUGE thank you to the mega wonderful @RosieXXVI, who so kindly volunteered to beta this for me! You all have her to thank for helping me break this up into more readable chunks. 🥰🥰🥰
> 
> Second--as always, thank you for taking the time to read my story!! I know how valuable your time is, and I hope I've created something you enjoy. 😊😊😊
> 
> Third--this was *supposed* to be part of the Riverdaleevents Tricks or Treats event, but yeah.....LOL.
> 
> Last--if you like what you read and you does the Tumblr, feel free to come talk to me @sunshinebunnie. I promise I'm nice!! 😁😁😁

‘Oh,’ Betty thought absently as she nodded an acknowledgment of Sweet Pea’s words, not fully comprehending their meaning right away. She was still nodding on autopilot when she vaguely realized Sweet Pea was speaking again.

“The beanie-wearing asshole has been moody as fuck for months now. That’s why he’s outside and not in here talking to a couple of beautiful women like I am,” he said, turning a renewed cocky grin to Veronica. 

As Veronica preened in response to Sweet Pea’s outrageous flirting, Betty used the distraction as an excuse to slip off the dance floor and out of the club. 

It took Betty a couple of minutes of looking around on the sidewalk before she finally saw the faintest curl of smoke coming from the farthest end of the block. Taking a few steps closer to confirm her suspicions, she saw the dark outline of a man wearing a very familiar jacket resting hunched over against a motorcycle. Betty felt her pulse speed up as she walked farther down the dimly lit sidewalk, getting more and more lightheaded with every step closer to him she got. 

He was still slouched over and mostly shrouded in the shadows cast by the darkened storefronts surrounding La Bonne Nuit by the time she got within a couple feet of him. After so many months of envisioning him in her dreams, seeing him in the flesh left her a little unsure of how to proceed—she was hardly well-versed in how to make small talk with a former one-night-stand. She briefly wet her lips before saying the first thing that popped into her mind.

“I hear silence is the perfectest herald of joy,” her clear voice breaking through the still silence of the crisp October air. 

Betty stood stock still as she watched Jughead slowly uncoil from where he’d wrapped himself around his handlebars. In the encroaching darkness, without the added security of so much as a jacket of her own, the vulnerability of her situation began creeping over her. Her skin broke out in goosebumps as she felt the weight of his gaze as he dragged his eyes slowly up her body like she was a figment of his imagination brought to life. She started fidgeting—partly to relieve the renewed ache in her feet, partly to warm herself up, but mostly just to burn off the nervous energy trying to unsettle her stomach as she waited for him to say _something_. 

His eyes bored into her with an almost suffocating intensity before he quietly asked, “Would you rather I tire you with a book of words?” 

As vivid as her dreams had been, she couldn’t deny that her imagination had failed to do his voice justice. There was a honeyed quality to the timbre of it that sent a tingle up her spine and a throbbing ache to her pussy. She looked up at him under hooded eyes as she said in a huskier voice than she’d expected, “That depends. Are you more of a Benedick or a Claudio?”

Betty held her breath for a moment as Jughead pushed himself up from his bike and stalked over to her in four purposeful steps. When he was practically looming over her—her dreams had also neglected to remember how easy it was for him to use their height difference to crowd her space—he leaned a fraction of an inch closer to her ear and whispered, “Pretty arrogant of you to assume I’m not Don John.”

She tried and failed to repress the shiver that ran through her from the implication of his words causing him to let out a dark chuckle, which only brought out another involuntary shudder. Before he had too much of a chance to bask in the revelation that he appeared to affect her as easily as she affected him after all this time, he felt the firm but delicate press of her hand against his chest directly over his heart. Jughead felt his brain short-circuit as the faintest suggestion of heat radiated from her palm through the cotton of his shirt. Licking her lips, she momentarily debated whether to give voice to her thoughts, only to find herself spurred on by the sudden racing of Jughead’s heart. 

Due to the way he was crowding her space, she couldn’t crane her head back, so she was forced to keep looking up at him from under her eyelashes. As she prepared to reply, she caught a whiff of his familiar orange peel and clove scent. Betty could vaguely tell the wood smoke was there too, but it was overpowered by the lingering smell of gasoline and engine grease. Her breasts suddenly felt fuller as her nipples tightened, and this time, she wasn’t surprised at all by the huskiness in her voice as she said, “Why, Jug? Are you a bad man?”

Right up until he heard her speak again, Jughead believed his delusions that he could remain honorable about this situation. Sure, he’d nearly rubbed all the skin off his dick as he’d jacked himself off to the memory of her haunting green eyes and the breathy way she’d said his name as she’d begged him to cum. So what if she was standing in front of him practically naked in a Vixen’s uniform looking to all the world like a perfect vision of nostalgic Americana made flesh just waiting for someone like him to corrupt her. Never mind that his cock started to swell the minute she began quoting Shakespeare to him and that a deep ache took root in his balls even from the muted contact of her hand against his shirt. Nothing about any of it meant he needed to give in to his base desire to fuck her right there against the crumbly brick facade of the building behind her. 

Then she asked him if he was a bad man.

Logically, he knew there was no way she knew about the plethora of bad things he’d done for the Serpents over the years, but it didn’t stop the visceral reaction he had to her question. His cock strained painfully against the front of his jeans as his body _demanded_ he show her—that he indelibly imprint on her—exactly how much of a bad man he was. 

Before his better angels had a chance to talk to him out of it, he kissed her. 

Betty felt lightheaded as the demanding press of his lips against hers stole all the breath from her lungs. As he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she leaned into the kiss, taking full advantage of the excuse to rub her sensitive breasts against his chest. He groaned into the kiss as she pressed herself harder against him, and the vibrations seemed to flow directly to her already tingling pussy. Her fingers curled against the buttery soft black leather that would’ve let him blend seamlessly into the dark shadows surrounding them, if not for the three large patches on the back of his jacket. 

She reluctantly opened her eyes when she felt him pull away from their kiss, his large hands gently cupping her face to keep her from chasing after his lips. There was an element of strangled torture in his stormy blue eyes that left Betty wondering why he’d cut off their kiss. Her fingers curled tighter against his back as she silently tried to coax his body back against hers. The stormy look Betty had been sure was lust-driven morphed into a dark scowl, and she suddenly found herself wondering if she’d completely misread the situation. Dropping her eyes to his chest, she started to withdraw within herself, preparing for a “book of words” about why kissing her had been a mistake. 

Instead, she got a feral growl. 

The sound caught her so off-guard, her guileless green eyes shot instantly back to his face as she unconsciously sought out the source of the unexpected sound. Although the scowl was still there, she recognized more frustration in his gaze than anger or regret. She found the thought oddly comforting as she lightly chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. 

His eyes dropped to her lips, lingering just long enough for her to think he was going to kiss her again. She unconsciously held her breath in eager anticipation.

Then, her cheeks felt cold as he dropped his hands from her face. Betty loosened her grip on his jacket in disappointment as he pulled away from her. Before she had a chance to turn back to La Bonne Nuit though, Jughead said, “Get on the bike.”

She froze in place before slowly bringing her attention back to his face. There was an unmistakable look of raw lust in his eyes that temporarily stole her breath away. 

When she didn’t move toward him, the pinched look of his earlier scowl started to reappear as he added, “I’m not fucking you against some brick wall. Get on the bike, Betty.” 

Despite the chill in the air, Betty’s skin felt like it was on fire. The Vixen uniform she’d borrowed suddenly felt too constrained as the tight, swollen feeling returned to her breasts. Hesitantly, she inched closer as her brain struggled to fully comprehend his words. 

As she got nearer, she vaguely registered him asking, “Have you ever ridden before?” 

A childhood memory of her mom _tsking_ in disapproval as a group of men on motorcycles had ridden loudly down Greendale’s main street abruptly popped in her head. The image of her mom was enough of an ice bucket on her libido that she managed to say “My mom always called them death traps,” even as she stepped closer to the unfairly tempting man before her. 

Jughead let out a warm, honeyed chuckle, although the crinkling around his eyes suggested the sound was more amused cynicism than mirth. He cocked his head to the side and gave her an appraising look before saying, “Then it’s a good thing you’re here and she’s not.”

Betty rolled her eyes at the impish line. Despite his flippant comment, she couldn’t deny that Alice was right—what she was about to do was the height of recklessness: there was no other way to describe getting on a motorcycle, with a man ( _a gang member, no less!_ ) she barely knew, in a town she was unfamiliar with, to go God knows where. “I’m not normally like this,” she murmured—although she wasn’t entirely sure who she was telling: him or herself.

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her before prompting, “What? Impulsive?”

“Reckless,” she replied, her voice nearly overlapping his as she got the single word out. 

Jughead let out a genuine laugh as he held out his hand to help Betty get on the bike. Grabbing his helmet from where he’d hung it off the handlebars, he turned around and offered it to her. As she reached out to take the helmet, the tips of their fingers grazed one another, and she could feel her cheeks heat up from the unexpected intimacy of the gesture. Betty glanced up from slightly cartoonish-looking crown etched into the front of the dark plastic shell to find him leaning a fraction of an inch closer to her. Before she had a chance to say anything, Jughead said in a husky near-whisper, “Well, for what it’s worth, I like you reckless.”

She gaped at him in shock for a minute, nearly forgetting to finish putting on the helmet as he turned away from her with a smug smirk. It was only once he began to rev the engine that she finally remembered to secure the chin strap. Even without him telling her, Betty found herself instinctively curling her arms around his waist and nestling against his back. Between the steady vibrations of the engine and the solid feel of his torso, she could tell she was getting embarrassingly wet. As she struggled not to squirm too much, she simultaneously prayed for the strength not to do something stupidly dangerous—like palm his cock through his jeans as they were riding down the highway. 

*

Jughead needed to come up with a plan. When he’d reluctantly agreed to be Sweet Pea’s wingman before the bonfire, he hadn’t anticipated running into the very woman who’d been relentlessly haunting his dreams for months. Likewise, he hadn’t expected to find himself kissing her... or to find her so responsive to his body or him to hers. If anything, he’d secretly hoped to discover that the unnatural chemistry between them, whose lingering presence had dogged him for months, had merely been his imagination amply embellishing on their previous tryst. Instead, he’d found himself feeling like someone had suddenly shoved hot pokers under his skin and then attached them to electric current for good measure. 

Not fucking her right there on the street was definitely the right decision—even if his throbbing cock disagreed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t awash in places he could take instead. ( _Unlike Sweet Pea apparently, the bastard._ ) Taking her home seemed like the most logical option, but JB could get home at any minute. Even though he knew she wasn’t in middle school anymore, the thought that she might walk into the trailer and catch him having sex still squicked him out. There was the garage, but he was already in enough shit with Sweet Pea as it was. As sexy as picking up library books turned out to be, he sensed that post-coital invoice collecting and reorganizing would be decidedly less so. The idea of taking her to the Whyte Wyrm crossed his mind for the fleetest of seconds, followed quickly by the image of the broken sink and clogged up toilet he saw in men’s room the week before. The aching in his cock abruptly stopped as he tried to suppress the memory.

Betty’s arms squeezed his waist tighter as they came to a railroad crossing, and he made a split-second decision. At the junction on the other side of the tracks, he turned toward Fox Forest.

He opened the throttle and fought to keep his attention on the road rather than imagining how good it would feel to have Betty’s hands around his cock instead of his torso. As bike sped on, Jughead knew she must be freezing behind him. If he’d thought to bring his spare helmet, he would’ve gladly given her his jacket to wear for the ride. Unfortunately, he didn’t. Since he’d already lent Betty his helmet, his jacket was the only protective gear he had. While he knew it wouldn’t keep him from a head injury, it would at least save him from a nasty case of road rash if he had to dump his bike. The one thing he _could_ do was make the trip as short as possible though. 

Betty gripped him firmly as he watched the speedometer climb higher. 

It took him a little over ten minutes to reach the little-used entrance to Fox Forest that he and Sweet Pea had discovered by accident back in high school. As they turned on to the slightly overgrown access road, Jughead noticed a few faint plumes of smoke in the middle distance. It appeared that some of the Serpents had already arrived at the camp and got started on the bonfire. If they kept to the east of the smoke, they’d be unlikely to run across any Serpents on their way to the bonfire since the only other person who knew about the entrance they’d used was Sweet Pea, and Jughead doubted that he’d be coming to Fox Forest for anything other than the bonfire. 

Jughead slowed his bike down to 30 mph as they approached the cutout he’d used as a parking area for years and silently prayed not to dump his bike as he worked to keep both of them balanced at the low speed. He pulled into the grassy embankment and turned off the engine, barely getting the kickstand down before he felt Betty’s grip around his waist loosen. The loss of contact felt oddly acute. 

Betty looked around awkwardly for a second before bracing herself against his shoulder and stiffly swinging her leg over the back of the bike. He winced inwardly in sympathy. Even though it had only been a short ride, he knew the insides of her thighs must be achy from clamping them against the body of the motorcycle. As she pulled off her borrowed helmet, Jughead caught a brief glimpse of her face in the moonlight. The ambient light surrounding them was dim at best, but he was nearly certain that Betty’s lips had a slightly _blueish_ tint to them, if the extensive goosebumps covering her bared arms were any indication. Jughead couldn’t have felt like more of an ass if he tried. 

He quickly dismounted from the bike, looping the chin strap of his helmet securely around the handlebars as he stood up. For a split second, he considered just taking Betty straight to the bonfire and forgoing whatever impure impulses he’d had when he decided to bring her to Fox Forest. The thought lasted about as long as it took him to turn around and face Betty. 

His mouth went dry as he watched her shaking out her helmet-flattened hair in what felt like slow motion. Stepping closer to her, he slipped his arms out of his jacket before draping it over her shoulders. Betty looked up at him through her eyelashes as she visibly relaxed into the lingering body heat trapped within his jacket. All of his honorable intentions evaporated as his semi-flaccid cock began to swell against the front of his jeans again. Grabbing her hand, he laced his fingers through hers as he lead her down an almost unnoticeable trailhead.

They made the seven-minute walk to the stand of trees Jughead had used as a writing refuge since he was twelve. His heart was beating so loudly it drowned out all of the other sounds surrounding them other than the occasional muffled whisper of dry leaves crumbling under Betty’s Keds. As they came to a stop in front of the closely clustered group of trees, Betty gave a nervous laugh. “Veronica is going to be so pissed if you turn out to be a serial killer,” she said with artificial brightness.

It took a minute for her words to sink in as he stared mutely at her. Then, her worries hit him all at once: a young woman walks off into the night with a dangerous man she doesn’t know in an unfamiliar place and then he _takes her to the woods_. He might as well have brought a plastic tarp to use as a blanket for all the true crime novels he’d read over the years. 

Toying with his beanie, he said, “I’ll take you back to the club right now, if that’s what you want, Betty.” When he glanced up at her, her eyes were slightly narrowed as she scrutinized him. His fingers itched to keep messing with his hat, but he forced himself to focus on how Betty looked in his jacket instead. The leather was comically large on her—he was almost positive that if she zipped it up, it would cover nearly all of her cheerleading uniform. That image abruptly morphed into him imagining coming home after work to find Betty in his kitchen wearing his Serpent jacket and nothing else. His cock throbbed painfully at the surprisingly domestic thought. 

Before Betty had a chance to accept his offer, he blurted out, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. For months. And now, it’s like I conjured you out of thin air, which _would_ be my Jones luck, to get exactly what I’ve been wanting only to have no way of doing anything about it.” 

Betty’s fingers slipped out of his and he silently cursed himself for his outburst. As he prepared himself to take her back to town, he noticed her hand playing with the hem of his jacket, her fingertips the barest flash of white under the cuff of his sleeve. “Is this your spot, then?” he heard her ask in a soft, skeptical voice. 

His brows knit together as he answered, “Huh?”

A piercing pair of green eyes managed to laser in on to his position in the increasing darkness as she prodded, “You know. Your _spot_. Your go-to place to take girls when you hook up.”

Jughead was dumbstruck by the preposterousness of her suggestion. With a muffled chuckle, he said, “I promise you, I don’t have _a spot_. Other than Sweet Pea and our other best friend Toni, I’ve never come here with anyone else.”

“Except me,” Betty added thoughtfully.

“Except you,” he confirmed. 

Betty studied the zipper on his jacket before asking, “Why?”

It took him a couple of tries, but he eventually managed to swallow passed the boulder lodged in his throat. In a much huskier voice than he thought he possessed, he said, “It was the only place I could think of where we could be alone and I wouldn’t get in trouble fucking you.” 

A strangled squeak drew his attention to her face. Even in the darkness, he could pick out traces of a dark blush flooding her cheeks. His eyes hungrily followed the path of her tongue as she carefully licked her lips before asking, “How’s that?”

He stepped an inch closer to her, which she mirrored by stepping back, bringing her nearly flush against the largest tree. Bending over so he could whisper in her ear, he replied, “My sister’s home for the weekend and I didn’t trust her not to walk in on us at my trailer, and Sweet Pea would probably have beat me to death if I messed up our invoices any more because I fucked you on my desk at work.” 

“ _Oh_ ,” was all Betty was able to get out before Jughead’s mouth was covering hers again, swallowing up the rest of her breathy words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a second, comments/reblogs/kudos/bookmarks/etc are all super, super appreciated!
> 
> Thank you again for reading!!!! You're wonderful and amazing!!! 🤗🤗🤗🤗


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last section of the one-shot. (Oh, you're on a schedule and wanna jump straight to the smut? No judgment. 😉😉😉😁😁😁😁)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First--I'd like to send a HUGE thank you to the mega wonderful @RosieXXVI, who so kindly volunteered to beta this for me! You all have her to thank for helping me break this up into more readable chunks. 🥰🥰🥰
> 
> Second--as always, thank you for taking the time to read my story!! I know how valuable your time is, and I hope I've created something you enjoy. 😊😊😊
> 
> Third--this was *supposed* to be part of the Riverdaleevents Tricks or Treats event, but yeah.....LOL.
> 
> Last--if you like what you read and you does the Tumblr, feel free to come talk to me @sunshinebunnie. I promise I'm nice!! 😁😁😁

Jughead’s senses took leave of his body as his brain struggled to accept that the blonde pressed tightly against him was real. He leaned further into the kiss, drinking in each breathy mewl as Betty rubbed her breasts against his grey Henley, her hands scrabbling for purchase at his hips. As her fingers tangled in his belt loops, he felt her insistently tugging his pelvis closer to hers. Smiling into their heated kiss, he pulled his mouth _just_ far enough away from hers to make her eagerly chase after his lips, only to begin nipping at the delicate skin of her exposed neck when she started pouting. Ghosting his tongue along the column of her throat, he savored the essence of sugar cookies that seemed to cling to her skin. 

Out of nowhere, a full body shiver ran through Betty as he ran his tongue lightly along the shell of her ear. He breathed a deep, guttural groan into her hairline as he ground his engorged, denim-clad cock against her, desperate for some kind of relief. A small whimper of need escaped Betty’s lips as he momentarily pinned her body against the tree with his hips, and the unexpected rawness of the sound caught him temporarily by surprise. With a low grunt, he channeled his prehistoric instincts suddenly lifting Betty up by her thighs, her Vixen skirt nearly pushed all the way up to her waist as she wrapped her limber legs firmly around his trim hips. 

As he continued to suck on her neck, unconcerned with the unmistakable minefield of bruises he was leaving on her skin, Betty shamelessly rolled her hips against him seeking friction of her own. Despite the cool night air, Jughead could easily sense the moist heat radiating from Betty’s pussy through his jeans, and a thought occurred to him. “Are you wearing underwear?” he asked with a strangled groan as his imagination suddenly provided him with a _vivid_ image of him thrusting inside her tight, velvety walls. 

“ _G-string_ ,” Betty breathed out as she tried to grind herself harder against the taunting outline of his cock. 

Jughead closed his eyes as he buried his head against her neck, trying to get a handle on his basest urges. As he wordlessly grappled with his desire to just take her without any further preamble,the unmitigated raw neediness in her voice broke him as she whimpered, “ _Please, Jug_. I’ve been waiting _so long_ to feel you inside me again.” With a dark, animalistic growl, he pushed her harder against the tree, using the thick trunk to brace her weight as he shifted his right hand from her outer thigh to her pussy. 

Pulling the tiny strip of cotton the side, the tips of his fingers easily found the barely concealed entrance of her smooth cunt and effortlessly slid inside her wet channel as Betty let out a soft whimper. He slid his middle and index finger deeper inside her, letting his thumb press against the hardened nub of her clit as he teasingly impaled her with his hand. Making sure that he kept her weight stabilized, he leaned far enough back from her that he could watch the unbridled lust racing across Betty’s face as she tried humping his fingers to increase the friction against her clit. 

“Uh-uh,” he tutted chidingly, leading Betty to let out a high-pitched whinge of frustration. 

“Jug,” she whined pleadingly when he all but stopped moving his fingers within her, “ _please_! I need to cum. Your fingers feel so much better inside my pussy than mine.”

Despite his best efforts not to react, he couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his fingers buried deep inside her.

“ _Did you fuck yourself thinking of me_?” he demanded in a low, warning growl.

“Yes,” she answered breathily as she attempted to roll her hips against him. 

“How often?” he pressed, leaning further into her to pin her hips back against the tree trunk. 

Betty let out another mewl of frustration at her restricted range of motion before saying, “Almost every day.” She paused for a second before adding, “Sometimes twice a day. I’d get so wet thinking about when we fucked in the library that I’d have to make myself cum at least twice before my pussy stopped aching for your cock.” 

Any shred of self-restraint he pretended to possess disappeared in the face of Betty’s confession. Crooking his fingers, he blindly felt along the front wall of her pussy until the rough pads of his fingertips found the engorged postage stamp of her G-spot. Jughead stroked the spongy protrusion with firm, measured caresses making Betty squirm. 

“Is this how you fuck yourself when you think about me, Betty?” Jughead taunted in a quiet rumble.

She shook her head with a soft whimper. 

“ _Tell me_ ,” he commanded, briefly switching his focus from stroking her G-spot to lazily rubbing her clit with his thumb.

The sudden change in sensation left her panting as she humped his hand in time with his ministrations. Betty keened when his fingers abruptly stopped stimulating her completely, earning her a soft _tsk tsk._ “I asked you to tell me how good girls fuck themselves when they think about bad men, Betty,” he whispered against the column of her neck.

*

Betty closed her eyes and whimpered as his voice vibrated against her skin. She tried to swallow down her words, rather than subject herself to the near-certain humiliation that would accompany admitting to Jughead the extent of her depraved fantasies. However, despite her best efforts to roll her hips against his impassive hand seeking to generate the friction she so desperately needed, he remained frustratingly unresponsive. A small whine of disquiet slipped passed her lips followed closely by a resigned sigh. 

“I usually wake up from a dream I’ve had about you with a throbbing pussy,” she said quietly. “The first few times it happened, I tried to ignore the achy sense of emptiness, but my dreams wouldn’t stop.”

A small shiver ran through him as she spoke, fueling her confidence to continue.

“I can’t count on having privacy at home if my parents are around, so I normally have to get myself off quickly,” she added, feeling her cheeks flame with embarrassment. For a split second, Betty thought she heard Jughead whisper, “I know the feeling,” against her skin, but when he didn’t move from her collarbone, she figured she imagined it.

“My fingers find my clit easily. I need to rub it with two fingers because of how wet I get. If I try just using my index finger, it slips off the hard little nub too easily, so I can’t work up any friction,” she said, her hand subconsciously moving toward the apex of her thighs even as she spoke. “I try to start off slow, to tease myself, but it usually doesn’t last long. I imagine you’re there in my bedroom, watching me finger myself,” she continued as her fingers bumped against his thumb resting lightly against her clit. 

Nudging her fingers under his, her voice had a needy burr to it as she added, “You tell me what a good girl I am, how you want to see me cum.” Her fingertips started rubbing her clit as much as they could while navigating around his immobile thumb. “I cum so easily for you,” she said, a small plea bleeding into her voice. 

When he didn’t immediately respond, she begged softly, “ _Please_ , _Jug. Let me show you how good and easy I cum for you._ ” 

His cock pulsed with a familiar ache. It would be so easy to give in—to watch as she came all over his teasing fingers, but he’d fantasized about her for months. If he never saw her again after tonight, he didn’t want the last memory he had of her to be fingerbanging her quick and dirty against a damn tree. 

“Do you only play with your clit?” he said so quietly that Betty nearly thought he’d used telepathy to ask the question.

Even though she knew it was silly to feel embarrassed given her current situation, a large part of her didn’t want to admit the truth. When she still hadn’t responded a couple of minutes later, she felt his fingers start to slide out of her cunt and she instinctively clenched down around him. Swallowing her pride, Betty whispered, “ _No_.”

Jughead’s fingers stilled for a moment before he said, “No, what?”

Betty closed her eyes, unable to bring herself to look at him as she admitted something she’d never planned on breathing to another soul. “I don’t just play with my clit,” she said, nearly choking on the seven small words. She tried focusing on her breathing as blood thundered in her ears temporarily drowning out any other sounds around her. Keeping her eyes clenched shut, she added softly, “Sometimes, I’ll slip a finger or two in my pussy. My fingers can’t reach deep enough to touch my G-spot, but if I twist the right way, sometimes, I can even slip a finger in my ass.” 

Whatever stoicism Jughead had been trying to hold on to evaporated in the face of Betty’s debauched admission, and his fingers jerked wildly inside the velvety walls of her pussy. She let out a wanton moan as she was suddenly able to rub her rock hard clit without bumping against the immovable wall of his thumb. Her teeth sank deep into her lower lip as she rubbed her fingertips forcefully against the engorged bundle of nerves. 

“ _Look at me, Betty_ ,” she suddenly heard Jughead growl, the dominant undertones in his demand undeniable. 

Opening her eyes, she found herself staring into the dark reflective pools of Jughead’s irises as the encroaching darkness continued to swallow up everything around them. His fingers crooked possessively against the front wall of her pussy over and over as his magnetic gaze held her captive, her breathing slowly turning into little staccato yips while she shamelessly rode his hand. With each press of his fingers, she felt a deepening pressure building in her cunt almost like he was blowing up a balloon and she was waiting for it to pop at any moment. She tried keeping up the familiar rhythm of her fingers against her sensitive clit, but was finding it increasingly difficult to account for the competing motions of his hand and her own humping hips. Despite her growing frustration, she kept up her limited efforts as best she could in order to supplement the building tension that felt like it was going to burst within her at any moment. 

All of a sudden, a soft whimper crawled out of Betty’s throat as she felt a gentle fluttering deep within her pussy, unlike anything she’d ever felt. It was an odd sensation. On the one hand, she was pretty confident it was an orgasm because the taut bowstring of tension Jughead had spent the last several minutes tightening was no longer there. On the other hand though, she didn’t feel that full body satisfaction that normally accompanied her orgasms; if anything, she felt like she was still within a few short steps of cumming again. 

Her pussy walls were still caressing the fingers he had buried deep inside her when she refocused her attention on playing with her clit. She let out a deep guttural moan as she felt the more recognizable inklings of pleasure building back up within her. Bracing her shoulders back against the sturdy tree trunk, she rolled her hips in time with her fingers allowing the up and down motion of her pelvis to create a delicious cross-friction with the circular rubbing of her fingertips. Although she wanted to close her eyes—the way she would if she were alone—to focus all of her energy on the sensations in her clit, she forced herself to keep holding Jughead’s gaze. 

The naked lust and feral possessiveness she found staring back at her was a surprisingly heady combination, but what was truly helping to drive her closer to the brink of her second orgasm was the subtle undercurrent of reverent awe that seemed to bind the other two feelings together. It was as if Betty were a rare book that Jughead had spent a lifetime tracking down and now, having obtained it, was still in shock that he was actually allowed to touch it and read it. 

“Kiss me,” she said with hushed breathy desire. 

Jughead’s pillowy lips crashed against hers again without any further prompting, his tongue sliding seamlessly into her eager mouth. The press of his chest up against hers had the unintended consequence of trapping her arm between their bodies, but she continued frenetically rubbing her clit as best she could. Without warning, she felt his thumb butting her fingertips out of the way as his hand took over rebuilding her pleasure. She moaned loudly into their kiss, the reverberations getting swallowed up in his mouth as he let out his own deep grunt of desire. 

Tearing her mouth away from his, she gripped his shoulder fiercely with her lone free hand as she began crying in increasingly breathier squeaks, “Oh yeah, Jug. Just like that. _MMHMM_. Oh, God... Jug…” 

He leaned into her, and for a brief second, she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead, he snuffled against the small patch of skin between her ear and her hairline before he sank his teeth into her earlobe without warning and gave a less than gentle tug. The sharp unexpected sting of his teeth combined with the steady pressure of his thumb against her clit abruptly launched her into the freefalling spiral of her second orgasm. 

Her body convulsed wildly as her torso thrashed futilely against the tree trunk, which only served to drive her hips deeper against the relentless press of his thumb. The self-perpetuating loop continued for several minutes until Betty began to wheeze from the overstimulation. Just as she was beginning to feel lightheaded, Jughead completely stopped touching her clit, letting his long fingers rest idly inside her tender pussy. 

As she slowly came down from the orgasmic onslaught he’d unleashed against her cunt, her limbs began feeling heavier and heavier. Despite his best efforts to keep her legs supported around his waist, Betty could tell Jughead was struggling under their increasingly dead weight as her hooked ankles slowly slid down his taut ass cheeks. Her legs felt like jello by the time her feet finally reached the ground—so much so that it wasn’t until she glanced up and saw Jughead sucking on two of his fingers that she realized how empty her pussy felt. 

*

There was a delicate tanginess to the moisture that had clung to his fingers when he’d extricated his hand from between Betty’s legs—an _essence_ that a deep part of his lizard brain recognized as uniquely belonging to her. For all the fantasies he’d had over the past several months, that was the one thing his imagination had failed to pin down. He sucked harder on his fingers. 

Looking down at Betty, he groaned around the digits in his mouth. She was watching him under deeply hooded eyes, her unmistakable ponytail more than a little askew from thrashing against the tree. “Do I taste good?” she asked huskily. 

Her naked lust undid whatever shred of resolve he had not to simply fall upon her like a wild beast. “Hard to say,” he answered, sliding his fingers out of his mouth. Before she had a chance to misunderstand his intentions, he added, “I need to taste directly from the source.” 

Betty’s brows were just beginning to knit together when Jughead started sinking to his knees. A small tremor passed through her as his breath hit the sliver of exposed skin on her abdomen. When his knees hit the dirt, he swallowed the groan that wanted to escape: the cold started leaching through his jeans almost immediately and the ground was much harder on his joints than he’d anticipated. His hands easily ghosted under the cheerleading skirt to find the thin elastic band of her G-string, tugging it off her slim hips with little resistance. Betty shivered again.

Without taking his eyes off her, he tucked the wadded up slip of fabric into his back pocket.As the image of a torn-up scrap of green satin sitting in the drawer by his bed popped into his mind, he decided not to think too deeply about his growing collection of “underwear he was never returning to Betty.” His hands palmed the smooth cheeks of her exposed ass and he growled when she subtly tried to widen her stance. Licking his lips, he asked smugly, “Did you ever think about riding my face when you fucked yourself, Betty?”

Betty closed her eyes and ducked her head into the collar of his jacket as she processed the crudeness of his words, and for a split second, Jughead wondered if he’d gone too far. The fleeting thought passed as quickly as it arrived when he heard Betty’s soft strangled voice whisper, “ _Yes_.” 

“Good,” he breathed as he grabbed her ankle, lifting her left leg over his shoulder. He ran his nose along the carefully waxed expanse of her pussy, breathing in the musky lemony tang that was uniquely Betty. The scent was intoxicating, but he wanted more. He licked a teasing stripe up the inner crease of her thigh, only for Betty to try squirming away from him as she squealed with laughter, “That tickles, Jug!” 

Letting out a dark chuckle, he gripped Betty’s thigh more firmly before he growled, “ _How about this_?” as his tongue slid easily between her glistening folds.

Her response was immediate as her right hand flew to the back of his head, pressing his face closer to her mound. The eagerness of her silent demand pleased him and he grinned as best he could with his face buried between her legs. He flicked his tongue against her clit like a snake tasting the air, and she whimpered in frustration from the teasingly fleet stimulation. 

In a perfect world, he would take his time eating her out—slowly building her to the brink of orgasm again and again before allowing her to cum so violently that he legitimately risked her paralyzing him. Unfortunately, they were in Fox Forest in late October, and between the cold and the hardness of the ground, his knees were starting to go numb. Pulling his head back as far as Betty would allow, he traced the outside of her labia with his tongue before thrusting it back inside her. Betty let out a strangled moan from the abrupt change in sensation and it made his already-hard cock throb. He growled against her pussy in response to his own pressing need, and the vibrations caused her to shove his face so forcefully against her crotch that he almost thought he broke his nose on her pelvis. Jughead sucked harder on her clit while she continued to grind against his mouth with increasing intensity. 

As she pressed herself against him, her moans of pleasure were increasingly turning into mewls of frustration as she hovered just out of reach of her orgasm. Readjusting his grip on her thigh, he moved his hand until his index finger was able to lightly tease her ass. Betty’s response was instantaneous as she let out a deep guttural moan. He tried again—this time gently probing the tightly puckered ring of muscle until the tip of his finger was resting inside her. Betty grunted, “ _Oh Jug_ …” as she sank further against his relentless tongue and his barely-there finger, and he knew she was close. 

Using his fingertip and his arm to keep Betty braced in place, he laved at the sensitive hood of her clit over and over and over, fueled by the sound of his name falling from her lips in increasingly breathier cries. With one last forceful suck, Betty squeaked, “Juggie!” before she started convulsing against his eager mouth. 

A small flare of possessiveness bloomed within him at the sound of his name on her lips that he wanted to ignore, but he knew he wasn’t that good of a man. After the absolute havoc the memories of her had played on his life over the past several months, he relished in the thought that _he_ was the only man who had this effect on her, that she surrendered her body so willingly to him alone because _he_ knew just how to stimulate her in a way no other man could match. The thought caused his cock to harden to the point that just thinking about his erection was beginning to cause him pain.

Betty’s hand fell limply from the back of his head and he used the opportunity to lean back on his haunches to take some of the stress off his knees. 

*

Everything about her body felt like jiggly rubber as she rested all of her body weight against the tree behind her as best she could. She was positive she’d never felt so completely relaxed in her entire life. Glancing down, she noticed Jughead practically sitting on the ground, an undeniably self-satisfied smirk clinging to the edges of his mouth as the evidence of her arousal glistened on his face in the moonlight. There was an almost perverse eroticism to the image that made her mouth water despite the trio of orgasms he had already subjected her body to.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, another chased right behind it: Jughead _still_ hadn’t cum. Given the ocean of post-orgasmic endorphins her body was swimming in, Betty felt more than a little guilty that the pleasure he had been doling out had been completely one-sided. ‘Please let him have condoms,’ she thought as she discreetly tucked her hands into the front pockets of his jacket to check. When neither pocket turned up any foiled-wrapped prophylactics, she gave him as much of an inquiring look at her languid body could manage as she said pointedly, “Tell me you have protection.”

He looked up at her from the ground with a mixture of relief and reverent awe before saying in a gruff voice that made her pussy flutter weakly, “Inside pocket.” 

Her fingers easily found the gold and black packet, pulling it out even as Jughead seemed to sit closer to the ground while simultaneously undoing his jeans. As she went to tear open the foil, her fingers stilled as she caught sight of his reddish-purplish cock bobbing in front of him through the opening of his jeans. The steady ooze of precum leaking from the head of his penis reflected in the moonlight causing her to feel a swell of pride over the fact that she had gotten him _so_ aroused. Wetting her lips, she whispered, “Did you get that hard because of _me_ , Jughead?”

She could just see the outline of his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed before he said a little thickly, “You know I did, Betty.” 

Betty’s breath hitched for a moment before she finished making quick work of unwrapping the condom. She tentatively reached for his cock to roll on the latex sheath and was amazed at how velvety soft his skin felt relative to the unyielding hardness of his shaft. Her hand unconsciously gave him a couple of exploratory strokes before a sharp hiss brought her full attention back to his face. “Oh my God, Jug! Am I hurting you?” she said in an apologetic rush.

He briefly shook his head as he kept his eyes and hands balled up tight. Before she had a chance to ask what was wrong though, he added, “If you do that again though, I’m going to cum all over your hand.”

Her cheeks immediately began to feel hot as a wild flush of embarrassment ran through her for not realizing the potential consequences of her actions sooner. In an effort to keep any unnecessary stimulation to the barest minimum, she deftly rolled the latex over his pulsating cock with quick, perfunctory movements. Content that she’d put the condom on correctly, she gripped the base of his heavy cock firmly in her hand, keeping it securely positioned as she swung her leg deftly across his hips, taking care to line him up with her pussy. 

She sank down on him slowly, her already well-fucked cunt only protesting a little as she stretched to accommodate his generous girth. Breathing through the mild discomfort, Betty focused her mind on the way Jughead was running his hands soothingly over her thighs and her ass as he rambled about what a good girl she was. With him sitting back on his heels, she was practically squatting above him. It was a different position for her, but good—allowing him to reach deeper inside her while she controlled the pace with her legs. Bracing her arms around his shoulders for leverage, she took a couple of tentative bounces as she squeezed his cock with her pussy. 

Jughead dug his fingers into her ass as he let out a garbled noise that sounded like a cross between a grunt and a plea. “ _Fuck, Betty_ ,” he finally managed to grit out when she slowly rocked her hips against him again. “ _Just ride me_ ,” he commanded with a snarl. 

For a brief second, a cheeky sense of defiance came over her, and she decided to deliberately grind against him with nearly glacial slowness. “Like this?” she asked with artfully coquettish breathiness.

He gripped her skin so tightly she knew she’d have fingertip-shaped bruises, and the thought made her smile. Leaning close enough that she could whisper in his ear, she said, “I forgot how _full_ you make me feel. I love how well your cock fills me up—stretches my pussy so nice and tight.” 

Without warning, Jughead shifted his body weight, successfully rolling them to the side so that Betty wound up beneath him. She let out a small _oomph_ as her back hit the ground.Before she had a chance to say anything,he said darkly, “Haven’t you ever been told not to tease bad men, Betty?” A second later, he crushed his lips mercilessly against hers as he began pistoning his hips relentlessly against hers. 

His name fell from her lips in a steady stream of supplications as he drove himself into over and over: each “ _Juggie_!” and “ _Oh, God, Jug_ …” appearing to push him closer to the brink of orgasm. 

Right as she could tell Jughead was on the verge of cumming, she heard a loud crashing sound on the other side of the small clearing they were in and she momentarily froze. “What was that?” she whispered a little frantically.

“ _Moose_ ,” he replied with a groan as he dropped his head to her neck. “ _It’s nothing_.” 

Jughead moaned her name into her collarbone as his hips finally stuttered when a chorus of voices broke out around them. 

“Can’t you two ever fuck in private?!”

“B??”

“ _Finally_ , Jones!” 

It took her brain a minute to filter through the unexpected cacophony of voices to realize that the people who were speaking _knew_ them. Luckily, Jughead’s sex haze was less acute than her own. By the time her mortification was beginning to kick in, he had already righted their clothes and was helping her to her feet, going so far as shielding her body from the group of onlookers as much as possible. His seemingly instinctual sense of chivalry did more to calm her nerves than she would’ve imagined. 

It wasn’t until she heard Jughead ask, “What do you mean _can’t we ever_ _fuck in private_?” that she felt her heart begin racing again. 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! You marathoner, you! You made it alllllllllllllllll the way to the end. YAY!!! I hope you feel like the payoff was worth it! 😊😊😊😊
> 
> If you have a second, comments/reblogs/kudos/bookmarks/etc are all super, super appreciated!
> 
> Thank you again for reading!!!! You're wonderful and amazing!!! 🤗🤗🤗🤗

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a second, comments/reblogs/kudos/bookmarks/etc are all super, super appreciated! 
> 
> Thank you again for reading!!!! You're wonderful and amazing!!! 🤗🤗🤗🤗


End file.
